Dad sent me to round up the cows from a pasture just beyond the sand hills. No bridle, just a hack. ( A piece of rope, nothing in the mouth) The calves ran down the hills, and my pony followed. I slid from his bare back, down to his neck, my legs rapt firmly around his neck My head a perfect target each time the foot came forward. I soon lost consciousness and fell to the ground. My pony stepped on my upper arm as he left me behind. When the pony came home without me Dad was on his back and looking for me. I had regained consciousness and was trying to walk home. Dad tried to get me back on the pony but I refused, so my Dad carried me all the way home. I wonder how many times my Heavenly Father has carried me in His arms when life hurts?
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